


All That's Painted Red

by Bella_Bellona



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, POV Second Person, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 16:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Bellona/pseuds/Bella_Bellona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica has a secret. Lydia just wants the room to stop spinning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That's Painted Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own (feel free to point out any I missed). It's been setting on my computer for well over a week and I just needed to post it so I hope you enjoy! There's not nearly enough Lydia/Erica in the world.

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” She said, smirking and flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. 

She was talking too loud, her grin too bright and sharp framed by painted red lips. You wanted to tell her that she should be quieter with secrets, especially with a room full of people who would probably pay for one of yours, and here they were about to get one of hers for free. Some of her secrets were more dangerous than yours. 

You wanted to tell her, but she was bright from head to toe, too red and loose limbed from the alcohol you had mixed with safe amounts of wolfsbane (no hallucinations this time). She kept spinning and laughing, her hair whipping around and catching on the gloss of her lips. You hadn’t had as much to drink as her but you were still dizzy with it and you didn’t understand how she stayed upright with all of the spinning, or maybe it was just you that was spinning, or the whole room. 

You knew that wasn’t true. The alcohol in your blood stream was affecting the position of the cupula in your inner ears and which was in turn sending false signals to your brain that your center of gravity had shifted having a general dizzying effect. You knew all that, but you were still pretty sure the room was spinning. 

“Tell me,” you demanded. You reached out a grasping hand to snatch the hem of her skirt, pull her back in and make her be still for just a minute until your head stopped the sick, dizzy swim it was doing somewhere two feet above your shoulders. 

She stood in front of you, bracing a hand on your shoulder and swaying on her heals. You thought maybe she could still feel herself spinning, or maybe it really was the room.

“It’s a good one.” She assured you and giggled, shushing you like you were the one speaking entirely too loudly about secrets. “What will you give me if I tell you?” She asked, schooling her face into something more serious with just a hint of wickedness underneath. You wondered what the price of secrets was these days, another of the sickly sweet drinks she’d been downing all night, a favor, a secret of your own?

“A kiss,” you told her, because you liked the shape of her mouth even under all that red. A kiss was a sort of secret anyway, and one she probably wouldn’t remember in the morning. One you probably wouldn’t remember in the morning either. 

She nodded, smiling another one of her wolfy smiles, and leaned in like she was going to take the kiss right that moment. There were at least three other couples kissing in the room, and who knows how many had made their way upstairs, as if every person there wouldn’t know what they were doing. But their kisses weren’t secrets like yours. 

Her teeth were too sharp, you tasted copper when they nipped your bottom lip and it stung. Then her tongue was there whisking it away and leaving behind the taste of alcohol and fruit syrup and vanilla lip gloss and she was laughing and spinning again. 

“What’s the secret?” You asked her, and the shape of your lips felt funny, awkward where they were forming words, like a phantom impression of her mouth was still pressed against them. 

“You. You’re the secret.” She said, like the words somehow made perfect sense. They did, eventually, with her smile and the look in her eyes as she dragged you up, teetering on your own too-tall shoes. “Come on,” She said, laughing again and ignoring everyone else as she tripped by them, dragging you along upstairs.


End file.
